Romano's Awakening
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: Romano believes that he must follow a dream; during the following year he learns just how elusive a dream can be. Engmano.


_Not part of any of my other universes._

_..._

**Romano's Awakening.**

Romano awoke in a sweat, heart pounding, in a sticky bed. Again. Dammit, he felt like some stupid preteen entering puberty! Cursing under his breath, he got out of bed, cleaned himself up, changed the sheets and flopped back down, to think about this damn dream again.

He'd had this dream a lot over the last few weeks. He didn't know why. Romano didn't always ejaculate in his sleep, not every time (here he punched the mattress and scowled). Sometimes he awoke with a raging erection and had no choice but to deal with it. But even that was preferable to these nocturnal emissions.

He forced himself to recap the dream as he lay back and tried to get himself under control. In it, he was always walking to visit his grandfather. He headed through the woods, reaching the little home where Rome had retired, and instead of being greeted by the older man, someone else was there. Someone who lured Romano inside and seduced him. The details of the dream were never really clear. Sometimes he felt as if the powerful unknown person were devouring him, draining him; sometimes it was simply the way the mysterious eyes watched him, with their promise of satisfaction, or the way the strong hands manipulated him. The aggressive feel of teeth in his shoulder, of hands pinning him down, the weight of a body on his. Like a ravenous wolf, taking him, over and over.

Dammit, he was getting aroused again. Romano dealt with things efficiently and then rolled over, angrily pushing his face into the pillow. What the hell could he do about this?

After so much time alone he had to admit the idea of sex with someone else was a very good idea indeed. But – but not Spain. He needed to move on.

He rolled onto his back again. Dammit, the whole problem was that he didn't know anybody else well enough. Since the end of World War II, he'd been almost a hermit! Oh, he saw Veneziano all the time, and his potato bastard boyfriend. And Spain came by every now and then, sometimes with the pervert or the damn albino potato. But really, that was the limit of Romano's socialization. How could he find the mystery person from his dream?

The brunet snorted. That was easy. Start going to these damn meetings. All the nations of the world went to them, eventually. At least he could look at them all, and observe them, and see if any of them were – were animalistic enough to be the person from his dream.

Before he could get carried away again, he shut down that line of thinking, making a mental note to ask his brother when and where the next meeting was. Yes. Romano had been reclusive for far too long. He needed to get back out in the world, for his own mental health, if nothing else.

…

He walked nervously into the large meeting room. It was extremely noisy. Lots of nations were bickering with each other, and there was a crowd at the buffet table on the side of the room. This meeting was in Romania's capital, which had almost frightened him into staying home: he didn't know the language, and knew very little of the culture. Romano had spent last night clinging to his little brother (mentally, of course; he wasn't about to act like a baby in front of the fucking macho potato), but had decided to man up for the meeting. At least the meetings were conducted in English, which he understood.

Romano was also quite, quite nervous about how other nations would react to his presence. They might start pestering him to find out why he had started attending, and he wasn't about to blurt out that he was trying to find a sex partner he'd dreamed about! Many of these nations he didn't know well at all – though he'd spent some time with an online world map this past week, locating them – and he was very tense.

He knew Spain wasn't attending this meeting. That was another reason he'd decided to come here now. Seeking, and hopefully finding, his one nation, in this melee, would definitely be easier without the dumb tomato bastard pestering him the entire time. Romano sat next to his brother without getting any breakfast, and pulled out a pen and note pad. Mostly everyone ignored him, which surprised him. Maybe they'd start bothering him at lunchtime?

During the morning portion of the meeting Romano found it easy to be attentive to the agenda, although many of the visiting nations did not. In the back, a scuffle broke out between Switzerland and Prussia; he recognized Switzerland not by his appearance but by the gun he used to whack the albino in the head. Pfft. Nobody would be stupid enough to shoot off a gun during a meeting. Would they? He tried to ignore it and faced Romania, taking notes, and occasionally glancing around the room.

No nation seemed particularly sexual or aggressive. But of course, this was a meeting.

At the afternoon break he found himself next to England at the buffet. This made him a little nervous. His last contact with England had been during the war. He was a little worried about how his old enemy would treat him.

"I'm surprised to see you here," England said pleasantly.

That was uttered in such a normal tone that Romano almost automatically answered. "I – I've decided it's time for me to venture out into the world more. Take more of an interest, on behalf of my country."

"That's good." England smiled at him as he poured some tea. "This meeting isn't the worst one we've had, but I hope it won't scare you away."

"So far so good." Romano managed a little smile as well, reaching for a no-doubt-stale bun. "I – I was a little worried about how people would treat me. Because of the war, and – and all that." Dammit. But it was true.

"Don't worry about that. Everyone's mostly over it, you'll find. We're all working to make the world a more – a more _harmonious_ place, I suppose, for everyone to share. Old grievances are long forgotten."

"That's good. If it's really true, it makes me a little less nervous."

England laughed out loud. "Of course it's true! Aren't we standing here, old enemies politely chatting? There's really nothing for you to be nervous about."

Romano grinned; he couldn't help it. This was so much less fearful than he'd expected.

The island nation cleared his throat. "Do you know your way around Bucharest? Would you like to join me for dinner?"

_Aha_, Romano thought. _Maybe England is the one._ "S-sure, bastard." Then he remembered to say thank you.

"I'll meet you in the lobby after the meeting, then? I've been here a lot, so I know some good restaurants."

"Th-that's fine," he stammered, as Romania called the meeting back to order.

…

The two nations stepped outside. The weather was cool, and it was near twilight now. "Most of the good restaurants are in the downtown district. We can walk; it's not far."

Romano nodded. He was still surprised at how pleasant England was being, but it certainly beat hanging around with Veneziano and Germany.

"Or," the island nation said, "I know a shortcut through these woods." He gestured. "There's a pedestrian path. It's nicer in springtime, of course, but not bad now."

_Walking through the woods_…the parallel to his dream was beginning to excite Romano. Not sexually, just mentally. It seemed like the dream person might really be England! But he didn't want to walk through a dark wood with him. With anyone. It was a little scary. "L-let's stay on the sidewalk."

The blond let out a little bark of laughter. "That's fine. But you really don't have to worry. I'm a gentleman, not some wolf about to attack you." He moved off and Romano hurried to catch up.

Oh, Romano was in a much better mood already. How easy this had been. As they walked, he eyed his companion surreptitiously. He was certainly good-looking, despite those eyebrows. Dressed well: not flashy, but conservative. And he'd been pleasant and calm all day, at least with Romano. England had argued some points during the meeting, but from what Romano had seen, there were bound to be differences of opinion. Veneziano had agreed in a whisper, when he'd mentioned this to him.

They found a small restaurant; he allowed England to choose the dishes, since he was unfamiliar with Romanian cuisine. As they ate and chatted about world affairs, he spent more time analyzing the blond. This was going to be the start of an amazing relationship, he knew.

But as they talked, England continued to maintain his aloof, gentlemanly demeanor. Romano almost began to feel like he was sitting with a kind older brother, someone who carefully explained things to him for his own benefit. This really wasn't the kind of person from the dream. That person had been dominant and complex. England seemed intelligent, of course, and friendly, but not the person from the dream.

Still, it was nice to sit and talk without having to worry about coming across as an idiot. He began to be interested in their discussion, despite himself, and asked several coherent questions. This was actually good for him. By the time tomorrow's meeting rolled around, he wouldn't feel so out of it.

"Would you like to explore the city a little?" England paid the bill and the two of them left the restaurant.

"I – I think I'd rather go back to the hotel now." Romano, of course, wanted to see whether his companion would come to his room. He wasn't sure he could work up his courage to invite the blond, but if he was the nation from the dream, England would practically demand it.

"Of course. It's this way."

Silently they passed through the busy city streets. Romano spared time to observe them: architecture, lights, cars, people. It was nice, getting to see the new places. Yes, his decision to come out of hiding had been a good one, no matter what its motivation.

In the hotel lobby England turned to him and shook his hand. "Thank you for dining with me. It was quite civilized." He snorted. "Not like having dinner with France, or America."

Romano smiled. "Thank you, bastard. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night."

And England headed up the stairs, presumably to his own room.

Romano rode the elevator, thinking. That had been very nice. And he hadn't been nervous at all. He wondered why England hadn't pursued him, though. Well, if he really was that much of a gentleman, then he couldn't be the nation from the dream.

He reached his hotel room and went inside. Thankfully he'd been able to get a room to himself this time, though Veneziano had warned him that might not happen very often.

The half-nation dreamed the dream that night. He was relieved when he awoke before climaxing. As he grabbed himself to bring the arousal to completion, he forced himself to think about England in the mysterious role. It was hard work. The blond was friendly, but didn't have that hot, devouring nature.

Oh well. Romano came and then cleaned himself up. There were a lot of nations in the world. He'd figure it out.

…

During the rest of the week he and England had dinner at a different little restaurant both nights. Romano had figured he might as well enjoy this time and start looking for his demanding partner at the next meeting. The dinners were enjoyable, and although the island nation did get a little wound up when certain topics were being discussed (his cooking, his weather), Romano always came back to his hotel room feeling relaxed and calm.

Definitely not England, then.

At the end of the last meeting they parted with smiles and a handshake.

…

Over the next year Romano took an active interest in seeking his mystery partner. He spent time with the Nordics (polite and cold), the Baltics (polite and nervous, far too shy to be the aggressor of his dreams), avoiding France, Spain and Prussia as much as he could. He already knew he wouldn't want to sleep with any of them.

That didn't mean they avoided him, of course. Sometimes one, two, or all three of them pestered him so much that he wished he'd stayed in hiding.

And sometimes at meetings he caught England's eye. He always tried to offer a friendly smile. More often than not, England turned away before Romano could begin smiling; those times when he didn't turn away, the blond kept a stoic expression on his face and simply nodded in return. Romano wondered whether the island nation was having economic problems, or something. He seemed very cold lately, not just to Romano, but to everyone.

Then Romano had tried spending time with Canada, and then America. He'd thought he'd found his dream partner when he'd gone out with America. That nation was so full of energy! But…the conversation had been so banal. Well, conversation wasn't really the point of all this. Hah. But the sex had been boring, too, unimaginative and over too soon. Romano had practically had to hold up a flashing sign to get the oblivious idiot to understand what he wanted. So he wasn't the one.

On the other hand, Russia had eagerly jumped into sex, but – but Romano wasn't happy with that at all. The man was technically very good, but he didn't have that seductive technique that the dream-person had used. Didn't care much about satisfying his partner. After making love to Russia one time, Romano had no further interest in him. And they couldn't hold much of a conversation together, either. He'd avoided Russia's sisters, because Belarus was, frankly, psychotic – everyone could see that; he didn't need his brother's warning trilled into his ear – and Ukraine was obviously not going to try to dominate him in bed. Pfft.

The dream's frequency had begun to abate, but Romano had kept searching. He spent time with Bulgaria, Romania – another case where he thought he'd succeeded, but he hadn't. Later, he supposed the fang had misled him. He'd then gone after the sleepy Greece, well-known for the depth of his desires. But that had been a snoozefest on so many levels. Some of the other nations he'd approached hadn't been interested; he'd been too proud to try to convince them. If they weren't interested, they couldn't really be the person from the dream.

By the end of the year Romano was irritated and drained. Maybe this had been a stupid exercise. He sat at home, trying to figure out what to do next.

A meeting was coming up again, this time in Venice. His brother was technically in charge, but he knew the potato bastard would be running things. Well, the one good thing that had come out of all this was his attention to his country, and to world affairs. He'd just go to the damn meeting, not try to pick anyone up, not try to find some mystic partner. Shit. Why could people like Veneziano and Germany find happiness, and he was throwing himself at people and failing?

Maybe he just wasn't alluring enough. That was distressing to consider, but he did consider it.

Then he laughed. Of course he was alluring. Everybody in the world was just an idiot, that's all.

…

Since he was no longer on his active hunt for the dream partner, Romano scanned the meeting room idly. He caught England's eye again, and the island nation nodded before turning his head down to his laptop.

Maybe Romano should ask him out to dinner. They hadn't talked in so long, and despite his lack of sexual aggression, at least England had been one of his more pleasant dinner companions. And – and if things were going bad for him, maybe Romano could help? That wasn't likely. He still wasn't a power player. But maybe by lending a sympathetic ear it would do some good.

Accordingly, at the lunch break he went to the hotel restaurant and waited for the island nation to arrive, to invite him to dinner. But the blond never showed.

Romano went back to the meeting room a little early, and England was still in the room, bent over his laptop, a cup of cold tea and plate of stale breakfast buns at his side.

The half-nation cleared his throat. People were beginning to trickle back in and he didn't want to be overheard. "E-England?"

The blond raised his gaze. "Romano."

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" He was proud of himself for not stammering.

England gave him a long, cool look. "No," he replied, after a long silence. He turned back to his laptop. "Thank you," he added.

Wh-why not? Romano was confused, but he went to his seat. He wondered why England wouldn't have wanted to go to dinner. They'd gotten along so well before!

During the second half of the day, Romano's mind was in a whirl. Half of his attention was on England's current behavior – he was dazedly staring into space, not attending to the meeting at all – and the other half was trying to figure out why the island nation had been so cold to him.

Eventually he did figure that part out, of course. Romano had never taken England's feelings into consideration. In fact he'd never really taken anyone's feelings into consideration; he'd just plowed through all these nations, trying to find one that matched his dream. He and the island nation had had a fun time at that old meeting, and then Romano hadn't spoken to him for a whole year. Dammit. Yeah, now he could see exactly why England wasn't interested. Everyone had some pride. Well, fuck him.

As the afternoon wore on, more and more people became aware of England's inattention, until Germany barked out, "England?"

He didn't react.

"Hey, _Angleterre!_" But the blond didn't react to that either. It took an elbow to the ribs from Prussia – who else – to bring him back to the moment.

"Er – what?"

The room filled with titters as people began to scoff at the blond. His face reddened. He looked around the room at all the nations laughing and his scowl grew, until he apparently reached his boiling point, rising and grabbing his things. "Shut it, you idiotic bunch of wankers!" England fled the meeting room to the sound of all the others laughing at his discomfort.

Except Romano, who now felt like total shit.

The macho potato got the meeting back on track. Romano paid no attention. He wondered whether England had been moping about him, or something. If that was why he'd been so vacant all afternoon.

But no. Romano didn't mean that much to him. If he did, surely England would have asked him to dinner before this? Or lunch, or something.

He forced himself to think back. No. England wouldn't have had the chance. Right away Romano had started chasing all those other nations. And from what he'd seen today, the blond had a bit of a temper, and he was proud. England wouldn't have pestered him to socialize, in case of rejection. Dammit, Romano certainly understood how that felt.

He now saw that his actions had clearly said "Not Interested." Dammit. That wasn't what he'd intended at all! And an entire year had gone by. Fuck. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop and realized the meeting had ended.

"Hey, Romano!" America called out. "Wanna have dinner?"

Should he? "N-no," he blurted out, before he really knew what he was saying. "Uh, thanks, but no, bastard."

"Okay, well, have a good night!" The loud blond didn't seem fazed by the refusal.

In a bit of a daze himself, the half-nation packed up his things and took them back to the hotel room he was sharing with Austria. He dumped them on the desk before plopping down on the bed to figure out what to do next.

Well, he needed to get some dinner. Here in Veneziano's neck of the woods he could certainly get good pasta. He put on his coat and headed out.

Romano found himself scanning the faces of the people he passed. He wondered if they were happy in their lives. Then he wondered if anyone was ever really "happy" in life. Surely they must be. There would be a lot more suicide, otherwise. He mooched along the sidewalk, thoughts tumbling like leaves in an autumn wind.

Eventually those thoughts turned back to England. Romano wanted to apologize. Maybe they could still be friends, if he explained about things. Out of all the nations he'd spent time with, this year, England was the only one who had treated him as an equal, a mature adult. He'd liked that feeling, though he hadn't grasped how different it felt until just now. Had never really analyzed it before.

He walked for almost two hours, rambling in circles around the city, before feeling his stomach grumble. Well, there was a little café up here that he liked. Instead of getting a full-blown dinner, he'd pop in for espresso and maybe some cake.

Inside the café he saw England, no longer irate, reading an Italian newspaper and drinking something from a mug. The Brit was on a long leather couch. Did Romano dare approach him? He didn't yet know what to say to the man, how to apologize.

Before he stopped waffling England glanced up and met his eyes, then calmly turned back to the newspaper. No, Romano couldn't sit on that couch with him. Not while the island nation was still so cold. But – but there was a chair next to it. Within earshot. He walked over and sat down in the chair, gingerly, clearing his throat. "Are you all right?" he started out. He slipped off his grey wool overcoat and threw it over the arm of the couch.

"Not bad," England replied, eyes not leaving the newspaper.

"Listen, I'm sorry." The words tumbled out of Romano in a rush. "I didn't realize how I was behaving. I – not until today. I – I'm sorry." He twisted his fingers together in his lap.

England folded the newspaper and set it down, picking up his mug and shifting to face the half-nation. Well, that was progress. "You didn't realize how you were behaving?" he asked in disbelief.

The brunet scowled. "That's not quite what I meant. I mean, I didn't think about how my actions might have come across. I am sorry."

"But you're thinking about it now?"

"Of course I am, bastard! I wanted to go to dinner with you, have a nice time, and you r-rejected me. I had to think about why."

"As if you didn't reject me? A series of nice dinners, and then you never speak to me again; to make matters worse, I had an entire year of hearing every nation in Europe – and bloody America – boast about how they'd been screwing you? But I wasn't good enough, apparently." His face was flaming red, but his angry green eyes held Romano's.

Fuck, fuck, that hadn't been it at all! "You – you weren't aggressive enough."

"So, what? You're telling me they all raped you? You've got some bloody stupid ideas about sex, Romano."

Dammit! How the hell could he explain this? Because he really did want England to understand what he was thinking. "Can I come sit next to you on the couch? I'd like to explain, but not if I have to talk very loud."

"Suit yourself." England put the mug down and shifted over with a frown between his impressive eyebrows.

Romano changed seats. "I – I had a dream," he began. No, he wouldn't talk about the sex part of it. He'd just explain why he'd done what he'd done. "I kept having this same dream over and over, and I decided I needed to try to find the other person in the dream. That's why I started coming to meetings. I didn't know anyone well enough, except France and Spain, and I knew they weren't the ones in the dream. Or, well, if they were, I didn't want them to be." He took a deep breath.

"Did you find the person?"

Romano shook his head. "No. I – I think it's time for me to admit it was just a goddamn dream, not some kind of fucking _mystic sign_. I haven't had it in a long time, anyway. Maybe six weeks? But – but I thought about all these nations I'd spent time with over the last year, and I realized that the only one I enjoyed being with on a non-uh, non-s-s-sexual level, was you." He felt his face turning red and stared across the room so he wouldn't need to meet the derisive gaze of the island nation.

"Nonsexual. Great."

"Th-that's not what I meant! I meant, the only person I – oh, fuck it," he grumbled, not knowing how to recover the situation. He leaned forward, head in hands, and scowled. "I feel like I wasted an entire year on all those bastards."

After a short silence his companion began to speak in a calm tone of voice. "But everyone has something worthwhile to recommend them. Even if you just – er – slept with all of them, surely there must be something good to remember about each of them."

Romano nodded. "Even when I was searching, I remember thinking that. It's true."

"It sounds like you're maturing. When you can begin to analyze these things and admit the reality of them, not expecting everything to just 'mystically,' as you say, fall into place."

This was encouraging enough that Romano dared to peek at him. England was now sipping his drink again, looking out the café windows. "I hadn't thought of it that way," the brunet admitted.

"We need to make our own dreams." England's voice was wistful.

"'We'?" Did he mean he and Romano would make a dream together? That might be nice.

"We nations, we people. Those who get ahead in life are the ones who find their own dreams and make them come true. The losers always sit back and wait for fate to drop something into their laps."

At the truth of this statement, Romano nodded slowly. "I do see that. Make our own dreams." He wondered what that would actually mean in terms of his dream. To take what he wanted?

Before he could pursue this further, England's voice interrupted again. "I'd think you'd be pretty good at it. You probably get it from your grandfather, that desire to take what you want and make it yours. Like an insatiable wolf." He let out a little chuckle.

_Insatiable wolf_, Romano thought with excitement. I _can be the wolf!_ These words of England's sank deep into his consciousness, opening up new avenues of thought. "Make my own dream," he said quietly, once more.

When he glanced at the island nation again, England was smiling at him. "I think you really are growing up."

Romano's stomach rumbled again. "If I asked you to have dinner with me now, would you say yes?"

England tilted his head to the side, considering. "Yes." That little smile was still on his face.

"I know a good little place." They both stood up and Romano took the mug back to the counter.

When he came back, England was shrugging into his red jacket. "It's a little colder here than I'd expected," he said conversationally, as Romano put on his overcoat.

"Don't worry. We don't have far to go."

When they got outside England put up his hood and they began to walk off. "Come this way, bastard," Romano said with a grin, taking his hand and pulling him towards a hidden path. "I know a shortcut through these woods."

…


End file.
